


In the Daylight

by animmortalist



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pregnancy, a little bit, dumb assholes in love, more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animmortalist/pseuds/animmortalist
Summary: Murphy interrupts her disjointed rambling, “I’m in.”It's the last response Clarke expects, but honestly, it's a godsend. She desperately wants a kid, and Murphy's willing to do it with her. They figure they'll be great together, and will avoid the consequences of a messy, failed relationship. And they are great parents, that's not the problem. It's that they start to think they want to be more, except neither one of them have even the slightest idea of how to handle those feelings.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	In the Daylight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Princess_Blake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Princess_Blake/gifts).



> Hello, lovelies! Here with a big ass oneshot for the wonderful Ali! 
> 
> This fic was prompted through t100fic4blm. If you'd like to learn more about us or how to prompt a content creator, you can find our carrd [here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/). 
> 
> You can also find more information about me, including a tentative, monthly fic schedule through my carrd [here](https://animmortalist.carrd.co/).
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, but please reserve your hate as it helps no one. 
> 
> *Title from 'Daylight' by Matt and Kim*
> 
> Thank you so much and sending all the love and good thoughts to you 💜

Look, Clarke knows what this appears to be, and it’s not that. Despite what Raven or Monty said after she first announced her intention to have a kid, with Murphy acting as the de-facto dad. They’re friends, and that’s it. 

She really wants a kid, and has wanted one since things went bad with Lexa over a year ago, when they broke up because the other woman told her that kids just weren’t for her. As much as they loved each other, they couldn’t get past that. Now, Clarke feels like she has to get a move on or she’ll never have a kid. It might be a little excessive, but she has a whole Notion document filled with information, a pros and cons list, and various links. She’s ready. She just needed someone to do it with her. 

A sperm donor is a means to an end. Even if said sperm donor is her best friend from college. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.

Except now it is going to be a big deal, because she’s realized how much it costs to actually get inseminated. Her dreams of a baby rank high, but their prices rank above even that. She’s a curator at an art museum, which pays well, but not enough for what they’re asking for at the doctor’s office. 

So, she has to revisit the agreement her and Murphy made. It’s going to be awkward and not at all the hands-off arrangement they orginally decided on, over many drinks and then again while sober, but the thing is...She’s thirty-one and wants a kid and she hasn’t met anyone who will do that with her yet. Apart from Murphy, which, honestly, she isn’t sure if he actually counts since she asked him first. 

She just hopes Murphy’s willing to go for it. If not, then she’s screwed. Can probably kiss ever having a kid goodbye. She might be a little more dramatic than normal recently. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, waving a hand and stopping her from continuing on her incoherent spiral. 

She’s been pacing in front of him, explaining the situation, while he’s been seated on her couch. 

She pauses, and chews on her lip. “What?”

She fears the absolute worst. That he’s already decided there’s no way in hell he’s doing this. Already, that image of a stupidly cute little boy goes out of her head. The one that she told herself not to get attached to but she did anyway. Because she’s an idiot, obviously, and Murphy’s going to tell her so. At least she can trust him to not hold anything back, to give it to her exactly as it is. Which will damage her ego, of course, but they’ll get over it. Maybe. Hopefully. One day in the very far away future and with enough whiskey.

God, why did she ever think this was a good idea in the first place?

Murphy frowns. “So, you want to have a kid? With me?” 

She rolls her eyes and huffs. She really thought he wouldn’t play her like this, but simply tell her outright that she’s batshit. It’s something that she appreciates about their friendship, but now she’s rethinking it. 

“Yes, I thought that was obvious,” she responds, a bit of an edge to her tone.

He raises his brows but doesn’t acknowledge the fact that she’s gotten a little testy with him. Which is truly a first. Murphy loves taunting people, and even more enjoys pointing out how he’s gotten under their skin. 

“I just need to clarify something,” he clears his throat, with a little pause, as if for dramatic effect. It’s a bit much for her taste. “You want to have a kid with me, but we would need to do it the old fashioned way because it would cost ten grand to do it the artificial way?”

She swallows and contemplates her answer. In the end, she doesn’t manage much. “Yes?” She shakes her head. “Forget it, okay? It’s crazy and stupid and I know you and I definitely don’t feel that way about each other so can you please forget that I ever said anything and just—”

He interrupts her disjointed rambling, “I’m in.”

The shock must be the only thing that registers on her face because, after a moment, he bursts out laughing. Fleetingly, she’s relieved, but then he keeps laughing and she starts to get a little pissy. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises a brow.

“You done?” she asks. 

“Not even close,” he gets out in between laughs. He points at her. “You should’ve seen your face. It’s the best expression I’ve ever seen.” He lets out a sigh and she thinks he’s done but then he starts up again once more. 

Clarke presses her lips into a thin line. “You’re hilarious.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies. “About time that you started recognizing it.”

She picks up a throw pillow from the chair she just vacated and flings it at him. He catches it and starts a new bout of laughter. Really, there’s no winning here, so she gives in and lets herself laugh a little, too.

“See!” he exclaims. “You admit I’m hilarious.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs out, “Probably too much for your own good.” He beams and she narrows her eyes. “Watch it. I know many dark secrets about you, and if that ego ever gets too big, I know exactly how to use them against you.”

He scoffs. “You don’t have the balls.”

She stares him down. “I don’t? Interesting because I might just have to call up Monty and tell him about the Elton John themed birthday party you had as a child.”

He swallows, a little thickly, which tells her she’s done her job of intimidating him. Good. Murphy might be her best friend, but she also knows both of them need a good, solid ego-check every once in a while. 

They’re dancing around what he’s just said, and while she’s grateful for it, she knows they have to acknowledge it eventually. 

“So…” she starts, unsure of the right thing to say, of what she even _wants_ to say. 

“I’m in,” he finishes. “Really.”

“Okay,” Clarke lets out a breath and tries to tell herself that Murphy’s an adult and capable of his own decisions. The doubt sets in anyway. 

“But are you sure?” She starts to ramble and knows he’s half-laughing, but he also seems to listen, too. “It wouldn’t be the removed situation we talked about before. And I know, I know, you said you’re cool with being a part of the baby’s life, but I don’t want you making that decision because it’s what I want. I want you to do it, in part, at least, because you want a kid, too. And not to mention, the most complicated thing of all with us, you know, having to—”

“Go to Bone Town?” he suggests, casually, grinning a little.

She kind of wants to hit him, but he’s not wrong, so she can’t justify it.

Nodding, she makes herself reply. “Yes. We would have to…” She mumbles out, “Go to Bone Town.”

He snorts. “You sound so excited at the prospect. Truly, go on about how you just can’t wait for the consummation of our heir.”

She waves her arms. “What do you want from me? Because I meant what I said. I don’t want you doing this to make me happy. I want you to do it because it will make _you_ happy. You have to want the kid, too, not just me.”

Murphy gives her a look. “Since when have I done anything that wasn’t directly in my benefit? You’re really damaging my rep here, you know that?”

“Murphy—” 

He cuts her off, “I know what you mean. I get it, okay? You don’t wanna do this alone, and you want the kid to have a dad, so you don’t want me doing this if I’m gonna decide in six months or a year that I’m not all in. You don’t want me to do it if I’ll bail.”

There’s a bit of an edge to his tone, and she gets it. After his dad died, his mom left him, in a way. She still kept a roof over his head and fed him and did all the basic requirements, but she blamed him for his dad’s death. In a way that she knows has impacted him, the same way the loss of her own dad impacts her. They’re in the same club, and Clarke hates the idea that she might’ve made him think that she believes he wouldn’t care about his own kid. 

She replies, “I never would think you would bail, Murphy…But you are right. I want the baby to have a dad, so if it isn’t going to be something you’re interested or committed to one hundred percent, then we shouldn’t do it. Not just for the kid’s sake, but for both ours. For our friendship, too. So, if you need to say, ‘no,’ for whatever reason, I’ll respect it.”

He takes a moment to consider it, and it means a lot to her that he does. If they do this, she needs to know he’s sure. She isn’t positive about the exact moment when he makes his decision, but later, she thinks she can tell. Something about the way he rubs his hand over his jaw or the look in his eyes. She’s afraid to admit it to herself, but she believes she knows his answer before he speaks it out loud. 

“I’m still in,” he says, and stands up. “I know what it means...Doing this, with you, but honestly, I don’t think it’s going to happen to me any time soon. I’m only admitting this to you, and you better not tell anyone or I’ll tell them all about how much you loved the song ‘Ocean Avenue’ as a pre-teen, but I want a kid, too. I’ve thought about this, alright? And I’m in. All in.”

Clarke thinks he might do something drastically uncharacteristic like hug her, but instead, he holds up his hand. For her to high-five, she realizes, a moment later. Oh, god, what has she gotten herself into?

“It’s not official until we high-five,” he tells her. She gives him an unimpressed look and he shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Oh, and who does?” she questions teasingly, unable to hide the smile that’s beginning to form on her lips. “The Society of Best Friends Who Try to Have a Baby Even Though It’s Probably a Terrible Idea?”  
  


He laughs. “Of course not, that acronym would be way too long. You can’t put that on a mug or a t-shirt. Their marketing would be shit.” When she still doesn’t give in, he rolls his eyes. “Just humor me and high-five already, okay?”

The stubborn part of her doesn’t want to give in, but she does realize they’re going to be more compromises in the future, if they’re really going to raise a kid together. So, with a little more fanfare and acting as if she won’t do it, she claps her hand against his.

* * *

Murphy’s doing just fine. 

  
He had sex with his best friend, and honestly, it wasn’t as big of an awkward mess as she made it out to be. It happened. They didn’t even have to do it more than once because, to quote her, he has, “super sperm,” and she got pregnant right away. 

The problem? Well the problem is that Clarke rocked his goddamn world, and he isn’t sure how to act anymore. In a post-sex-with-Clarke Griffin world. More than once, she’s called him on it. 

“You can tell me how weird it is now,” she told him as they waited for the stick to have one line or two. “I mean, it was for me, alright? There, I said it. Now, you can, too. Then maybe you can look at me like a normal person again, you know, without looking like you’re gonna pee your pants.”

He didn’t have the courage to say anything more than, “Yeah, it was pretty weird.”

Before either one of them could say anything else, the two lines showed up. 

It’s been just over nine months since then, and really, Murphy likes to think he’s been handling a pregnant Clarke just fine. Apart from the puking. In the first few months, there was a lot more of that. Maybe even more than from their college days. 

Surely, he’s doing better than Monty or Echo handled Harper or Raven. He and Clarke are ready for the baby, too. As ready as they can be, their friends always remind them, which is hardly prepared at all, in their opinion.

Clarke doesn’t seem freaked out though, which at least makes one of them, because honestly though, half the time he thinks he’s a disaster. Not that Clarke ever mentions that. Still, he wonders if she’s thinking it and not telling him. If she even regrets her decision to get knocked up by him. 

The thought lingers, pestering, though he wills himself to forget it. There’s nothing anyone can do to change that fact now. Besides, like he told Clarke, he really does want a kid. He’s excited, but also, more than freaked out that he’ll mess them up. 

“Please tell me that you predicted my craving before I even had it and you got me cookie dough ice cream?” she asks as he walks into her apartment. 

He’s been living there since she entered her second trimester. More out of necessity than anything else. Well, that’s what he tells himself. That it’s needed, that there is absolutely no reason for them to live together if it wasn’t required. He also tells himself that it’s no big deal they’ve been sharing a bed for nine months, too, but that one takes a bit more denial and avoidance. He does his best to not think too hard about any of it. 

She’s spread out on the couch and there’s the newest episode of a reality show they’re both addicted to playing on the TV. 

He gasps and she tries to feign innocence and switch the channel, but it doesn’t work. “You’ve been watching without me!” he accuses. 

She stretches out her arms for the bag, but she’s huge now, and can’t move all that quickly anymore, so it’s not too difficult to extend it out of her reach. Huffing out a curse, she starts to sit up. Murphy points a finger at her. 

“Nope.” 

He shakes his head and she starts to pout. He almost relents, but pulls back at the last minute. Goddamn his will. It used to be iron, but ever since Clarke reached her second trimester she’s been able to pull off this _look._ It brings him to mush and he hates it. This look, that he can’t even properly describe, is evil. Truly, truly, evil. And he usually gives in almost immediatley, but he decides to not let himself this time. 

“No, no ice cream for you,” he insists. “Not when you betrayed one of the most sacred customs in this apartment.”

“Murphy,” she says, almost whining. “Please, give me the ice cream.”

He shakes his head. “You know what? I think I suddenly have a hackering for chocolate chip cookie dough. Might just have to eat the whole pint myself.”

Something almost like fear flickers behind her eyes and he smirks. But when she speaks, her voice is dangerous, bordiering on deadly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Swallowing a bit harder than he intended, he doesn’t back down, even though he knows it probably is in his best interest to do so. “Oh, you think so?”

“I know so,” she replies. Then she turns a bit smug. “You would never want to deprive your _child_ of something, would you?”

Maybe it’s not just her ability to pull off _the look_ that’s evil now, he thinks fleetingly. A pregnant Clarke is a whole other adversary, and he can’t even begin to entertain the idea that he has a chance in hell at beating her. That doesn’t mean he has to completely give in right away. Despite what she might say, he does maintain he has some dignity left. 

“I’m not depriving my child of anything.” He shrugs. “The doctor said you had to eat _healthy_ anyway. Honestly, I’m actually doing a good service. To both you and the baby.”

She scoffs. “That doctor was a quack!”

He stares her down. “You mean the highest-rated one in the city?”

Clarke sucks at her teeth. “Same difference.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh, sure. Look, you can pester me all you want, but absolutely _nothing_ is going to make me let you win. You cheated with our show, and now you can’t do anything to make me give you this ice cream. Which is honestly melting by now, so, if you excuse me.”

Murphy ducks into the kitchen to put the few items he got from the corner store away. He hears Clarke struggle to get up off the couch. When she curses, loud enough to probably alert the neighbors, he rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, alright, alright,” he caves. “No need to act as if I’m committing some kind of crime against pregnant women everyone alright, so—”

“Murphy!” she yells, and he freezes. 

It isn’t her usual scolding voice, or fed-up voice, or all-around one that he associates with her when she’s addressing him. Instead, it’s something like fear, and that scares the shit out of him. Clarke had a rough first trimester. There was some bleeding and the doctors were worried, because of her age and family history, that the pregnancy was riskier than normal. But they were fine, his mind insists. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from racing into the other room.

Clarke’s standing now, and for a second, he’s so worried he can’t see right. His vision completely clouded over. Only able to focus on the fact that she’s up and isn’t bleeding. At least, he thinks she isn’t but then again she is in leggings and he can’t _see_ and—

“Murphy,” she commands his attention and he notices the wet spot on the couch. 

“Oh, crap! Your water broke?” he asks.

“Thanks for catching up!” she exclaims.

He gives her an unimpressed look, but it doesn’t last long because then the panic sets in. 

“Oh my god,” he runs a hand through his hair. “ _Your water broke_. Oh my god oh my god. Okay, okay, we gotta think clearly here.”

“I am,” she interrupts.

“I was talking to myself!” he replies.

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but he starts to spiral once more, unable to register that he isn’t exactly helping at the moment. 

“Okay, okay. It’ll be fine!” he says, thinking, _how can it be?_

A million question marks sound through his head and he can’t clear it and he _knows_ Clarke has a go-bag somewhere but for the life of him he can’t remember where it is and how the hell are they gonna do this? Before, it all seemed so easy. Now, Clarke’s gonna have a baby. His baby. And he really doesn’t even know where to start with any of that. 

Clarke stops him in his tracks and yanks him down to her eye-level by the shoulders. He pauses, gulps, and fights the urge to go on another tailspin. 

“Do I need to slap you?” she asks. “Because I don’t support it, and I won’t like it, but I will do it if it needs to be done. Because I’m freaked as hell, too, but my bag is next to the TV and we need to go right now, okay?”

Murphy collects himself. It takes every ounce of his will. “I’m cool. No slapping necessary.”

Clarke takes a deep breath and releases him. “Good. Now, let’s get the hell out of here so I don’t give birth in a kind of shitty apartment in New York City.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, and is beyond proud of himself that his voice is only a little pitchy. 

He continues to not have it entirely together, but he manages to hail a cab for the two of them. Clarke grips onto his hand halfway to the hospital, and he holds on tight, too. He reminds himself that his first job is to make sure that she feels safe, that she feels okay to actually bring a goddamn life into this world. It’s a daunting task, but not nearly as daunting as her own. 

With a shaking hand, he texts Echo and Harper, who tell them they’ll be there as soon as they can—they’ll hunt all night for sitters for their kids if they have to. When he replies that they don’t have to be there, they send numerous emojis rolling their eyes. He feels only a moment of pity for himself though because then they arrive at the hospital. 

The doctors whisk Clarke into a wheelchair and he’s running beside them. 

By this point, some of the pain has begun to hit Clarke. She may or may not be practically screaming for drugs. It’s hard to say, and later, he doesn’t remember any of it properly. Neither does she. It’s the small blessings because honestly….Giving birth is _a lot_. 

Beautiful, too, in a way he can acknowledge once the baby’s born, but, well, he’s an ass so it’s no surprise he’s not exactly down with seeing every moment as wonderful. Even though it is, he knows. A miracle. But this miracle? It’s messy, and involves a lot of doctors and screaming and him almost passing out because Clarke squeezes his hand so hard he loses feeling in it. 

One minute, he’s on his own. He’s solo John Murphy. The next, he’s a dad to a healthy baby boy. Clarke’s exhausted, and the nurses check over the baby, who they’ve decided to call Ethan. It still doesn’t hit him. Not until one of the nurses hands him the baby. His baby. His son. 

He looks down at Ethan and promises to protect him from everything bad, to keep him safe and love him and lots of mushy stuff he never thought he’d say to _anyone_. Even as he knows he can’t keep his son from ever getting hurt, he still wants to, and knows that feeling will never go away. Murphy takes in his son and he has to sniff away tears. 

“Go get the hooligans,” Clarke says around a tired smile as she accepts Ethan from him. “I’m sure they can’t wait another moment.”

“You sure?” he asks.

She huffs out a laugh. “We’ll be fine for the thirty seconds you’re gone, I promise.”

“I wasn’t saying—”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “God, Murphy, just get them, okay?”

There’s an edge to her voice, but he doesn’t mind it. She did just have his kid. He figures he can take the moment not being a picture of perfection and appreciation and friendship. He almost thinks, _and love_ , but has to stop himself. He loves Clarke, in a way, and yes, the sex was awesome, but they did this as friends, and they’ll continue to do it that way, too. 

He’s almost thankful for the excuse he has to leave the room and get their friends. 

His friends all stand when he comes out, and he doesn’t even try to fight his stupidly wide grin.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces, Ethan Griffin Murphy is doing perfect, and so is Clarke,” he tells them, getting a bit choked up but able to finish despite it. 

Monty hugs him fiercely and Harper gives him a smile that’s pure joy, and she’s even a bit misty-eyed. Jasper thrusts a fists pump into the air. Echo and Raven give each other a knowing look that he doesn’t want to question or even acknowledge right now. Out of their friends, the two of them have been the ones who insist he and Clarke are something more. Thankfully, it’s petered out recently, not that he knows why. 

“Can we meet the tiny killer?” Echo asks around a laugh. Murphy gives her a look and she raises her hands in defense. “Come on, knowing you two? Besides, it was a joke.”

“Only kind of,” Raven adds.

Echo swats her wife but everyone’s far too happy to take any of it seriously. 

Murphy leads them into the hospital room. Clarke looks up and grins. Ethan stirs in her arms, but doesn’t cry. Which he knows won’t be the case very often. Despite the fact that Clarke’s exhausted and neither one of them have a clue of what they’re doing, he doesn’t feel as freaked out as he did during the pregnancy. Instead, he feels like whatever happens, it will be okay. It’s a first for him, and he’s overwhelmed by the feeling.

Clarke gently hands over Ethan and Murphy looks at him for a moment before letting his friends all get a look.

“He looks like you,” Jasper says.

“Sad,” Raven comments.

Murphy glares at her and she laughs. “Kidding.”

“He’s perfect.” Harper swallows thickly and grins down at the baby. 

And then Murphy starts crying. More like sobbing. It’s sort of scary, loud, and goddamn embarrassing.

He can count the number of times he’s cried in his adult life on one hand. Two of them are cooking related. The other two are when he watched the second season finale of Derry Girls and finished reading the book _A Little Life_. In short, he doesn’t cry at people very often. Or because of them. Not since his dad died, really. So, it takes everyone by surprise. 

Then, as if his horror and shame and confusion isn’t enough, Clarke starts taking _pictures_. Not of Ethan, but of Murphy, crying. 

“What are you doing?” he gets out between sobs.

“Oh come on!” she exclaims, trying not to move but also get another shot. “This is like...A lunar eclipse. Or that meteor show that only happens once every thousand years.”

“This is not funny, Clarke,” he tells her.

She cuts a look at his friends, and, those awful, depraved people, all are holding in their own delight. 

“I hate you all.” He glares at them and shakes his head. “From now on, Ethan, Jordan, Sonya, and Alex are my only friends.”

“So...Your own and then your friends’ children?” Jasper asks, grinning.

“Yes,” Murphy replies, only regretting this a little bit since he is, in fact, still kind of crying, “they’re more fun anyway, and never critique my cooking.”

Clarke snorts. “It’s been only an hour, and already, Murphy’s more dramatic than our baby.”

Murphy shakes his head and looks down at Ethan. “Don’t listen to her, buddy. She’s wrong, which you should get used to.”

Clarke scoffs and tries to look offended, but he looks at her and she ends up laughing instead. It strikes him for a second, and only that, that she really is beautiful. But then everyone’s cooing over a little sound Ethan’s made and it’s forgotten. He doesn’t even remember it until two months later, and by then, his life is such a chaos of diapers and crying and Clarke pumping that there isn’t time to even think about what it means. 

* * *

Monty glares at Murphy and Clarke as Jordan licks a swing set and Harper tries in vain to get him to stop. Clarke wonders if his face is permanently fixed in the expression, or if he’s simply really committed to it. Ethan’s in his carseat that they brought to the playground, bundled up and fast asleep. Her friends’ kids are doing what they usually do, creating chaos. 

Her baby doesn’t even stir though, even with all the noise. The first few months were rough, but her and Murphy have a system down now. Things can get bad, of course, but for the most part, it’s been great. Ethan’s six months old and perfect. 

She knows that she’s a little biased, but really, the kid is the best baby she, or any of her friends, have ever encountered. He hardly ever cries, except when he wants something in particular (and she’s got his cries down to a science), has started to eat all the organic, homemade crap Murphy insists on making for him that they’ve just begun introducing, and he’s been sleeping better and better as the weeks have gone on.

Hence, the glaring from her friend. 

“Are we sure he’s human?” Raven asks, keeping an eye on Sonya as she chases her brother Alex with a worm. 

“Wasn’t that always debatable?” Jasper adds. 

“Ha,” Murphy says, dry. “You wish. Just admit defeat: our kid is superior in all ways and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Harper rolls her eyes and turns toward Clarke.

She shrugs and tells her, “Look, I don’t like acknowledging this anymore than you do, but he’s right.”

“Ah, you two are so humble,” Echo muses. “Your child will surely follow in your footsteps.”

Murphy smirks. “I like to think so.”

“God help us all,” Monty murmurs.

Clarke laughs. She’s surprised by how good it’s going. Honestly, by how good _her life_ is going. Normally, this is around the time when she self-destructs or, more accurately, something goes terribly wrong, leading her to then self-destruct. Apart from the occasional fight with Murphy (which Raven, Echo, and Harper assured her were normal, especially with a new baby) there hasn’t been anything bad in a long time.

It makes her nervous. 

She manages to ignore the feeling for the rest of their time at the park, focusing instead on laughing at Monty telling Jordan that, no, they cannot bring home the giant stick he found. This sets off some kind of meltdown, so they leave not long after. Clarke loves her friends, but she can’t but be a bit smug about her own son. Sure, she’s aware that it won’t always be like this. There will be times where she probably wants to pull all her hair out and when he misbehaves. She knows she’ll have Murphy during those times though, and the thought is so reassuring it’s almost surprising. 

Later, they’re back at her apartment. Murphy moved back into his own place around two months ago. They split the time with Ethan, and so far, there’s only been some slight loneliness for her. She’s sure he’s glad to have his space again. At least, she thinks that. 

But when they’ve got Ethan down and are having two Old Fashioned drinks, she jokes, “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your place and do what I am sure is a fascinating _Dexter_ type of serial killer moonlighting, so don’t let me keep you with the temptation of booze,” and he’s gets a weird expression on his face.

She can’t read him. What the face he’s making means or what she’s done to possibly offend him. Normally, she’s careful to not make jokes about giving him an out. She knows it wouldn’t be a joke to him, after everything he went through with his mom. Still, she thought this one was safe to make, thought that her and Murphy could always tease one another. 

“What?” she asks, trying to understand what he’s thinking. “Did I cross a line?” She wrinkles brow.

Murphy shakes his head. “No, no, you didn’t. You know I welcome serial killer jokes.”

She’s relieved, as a start, but then…”So, why the weird face?”

He hesitates and it makes her worried all over again, at least, until he finally tells her, “You think I actually like being alone in my apartment on my nights without Ethan or you?” He scoffs. “I might be an asshole, but even I like having my family around.”

It’s the first time either one of them has acknowledged it. That they’re a family. It kind of takes her breath away. 

“Really?” she questions, more because she can’t really believe she’s hearing this from Murphy, of all people, even though part of her tells her she should’ve known this already. 

“Clarke…” he trails off, and there’s something different in his voice, in the way he looks at her. 

She can’t place it, and forget about understanding it. All she knows is that she moves closer to Murphy and he does the same. There’s a certain amount of weight or tension in the air. She isn’t sure if it comes from her, or him, or both of them. She just knows it’s never been like this before with him. 

And then she realizes, _Murphy is going to lay one on her._

It’s too much at once, and she doesn’t know what to do. Clarke’s scared. There’s no denying it. The idea of kissing Murphy freaks her the fuck out. Not because she thinks it’d be bad or awkward or a million other things she’s told herself since she asked him to get her pregnant. Rather, she thinks (because she isn’t completely sure of anything in this moment) that she feels this way because she knows, deep down, that if they do this, it’ll be _something_. She hasn’t wanted something since Lexa, and the idea that this something would be with her best friend...She can’t let it happen. 

So, she fakes a yawn and moves away. For a second, she registers the confusion and disappointment on his face before he covers it up. 

“Sorry, I think I’m more tired than I realized.”

“Right,” Murphy says around a cough. “It’s getting late, I should probably head out anyway.”

She nods. “See you tomorrow?”

He pauses and then replies, “Of course.”

Then he leaves, and she does her absolute best not to berate herself the entire night, but it doesn’t work. 

* * *

Things are weird, there’s no other word for it, and Murphy absolutely hates it. 

It’s been three months since his and Clarke’s...Well, he isn’t sure how to describe it, exactly. Any time he comes close to describing it, it feels too lame or pitiful or something that sort of scares the crap out of him. He knows she’s probably not thinking about it. Which is fine, and her right, but he wishes they could just _talk_ about it. Not that he’s sure what he would say if they tried. Neither one of them are really good about talking things through. They’re more the action-y types, he supposes. Or just the ‘internalize it until you die’ type. That seems more accurate, when he thinks about it. 

It’s not even as if much has changed. They’re still co-parenting well enough. Ethan seems happy and Murphy knows he’s cared for, not just by him and Clarke, but all of their friends, too. He feels it in the air whenever he and Clarke are alone though. The feeling that something’s off, and it won’t go away. 

Which is why, when Clarke has Ethan and tells him to have some fun for once (whatever she means by that makes him vaguely uncomfortable) he invites Raven and Monty out for a drink. They’re all too willing, probably needing some time away from their kids and spouses, as much as they love them. Murphy can’t help but think that even at their strange place he and Clarke have found themselves, that they’re still working out better than he could’ve ever hoped. 

“Alright, lay it on us,” Raven says after they’ve received their drinks.

She barely gave him any time to even think about what he wants to say. He should’ve expected that though. 

Monty shoots her a look. “Real subtle. I thought we talked about handling this delicately.”

Murphy frowns. He wonders if Clarke’s already talked to them, and they know. It would make this a hell of a lot easier, he thinks.

Which is why he sighs and asks, “So you already know how me and Clarke almost…” He screws up his face. “Kissed?”

“What?!” they demand in unison, shock written across their features. 

Murphy feels the dread pool in his stomach. It appears that Clarke did not, in fact, tell them what happened. Which means he just did. In perhaps one of the worst possible ways that he could’ve. Dammit. 

“Oh, god,” he groans. 

“You guys...What?” Monty repeats.

Murphy starts, “Look—”

“What do you mean _almost_?” Raven shakes her head. “God knows the second you two decide not to be complete idiots, you still manage to reach new levels of stupid about it all.”

Murphy swallows. “What the hell does that mean?”

He already knows what she means, of course. More than once, one of his friends, or occasionally, all of them at once, has told him to make a move on Clarke. That they’d be great together. This reached a new level when he and Clarke told their friends about their plan to have a kid together, but not actually as a couple. Thankfully, it had lessened in the last year or so. Now, he’s starting to think that it never really went away, they just stopped talking to _him_ about it.

“It means,” Monty looks at Raven and she stares down into her fancy cocktail, “that we figured...I don’t know,” he huffs out, “that you two might actually be something one day. And while we all thought the whole baby plan was about as dumb as could be, we see how good you are together. You’re a family. I guess we thought that you two needed to give each other a chance, and didn’t know if you ever would.”

“And now you’re ruining it,” Raven intervenes. 

Murphy gapes at them for a moment, words failing him. His friends seem shocked. It isn’t often that he’s rendered speechless, no witty retort in sight. He swallows, and musters up a reply that he doesn’t know what to make of, or how to even think about without admitting more than he cares to himself.

“Clarke doesn’t feel that way.”

Raven’s eyes go wide. “But you admit that you do?” 

Murphy stutters for a moment before he gets out, “I didn’t say that.”

Monty heaves out a sigh. “And we’re back where we started.”

Raven says, “No, no, we’re not.” She looks at Murphy. “You need to just tell us you want to marry her and live in some kind of disgusting lifetime of bliss already.”

Murphy scoffs. “Please. Raven, come on. If Clarke and I were gonna do _that_ , then it would’ve happened already.”

“Or not,” she replies. “Because you two are idiots who don’t know how to properly express a human emotion.”

Murphy takes a sip from his beer. “Clarke expresses her feelings just fine.”

“Ah ha!” Raven exclaims. “So you know that you’re the problem here, and that it would be better if you told her about your undying love.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m admitting I want to be with her. Honestly, I’m surprised you two didn’t acknowledge I didn’t even try to defend myself.”

Monty waves a hand. “Your tactics at distracting us won’t work. You should really just tell us how much you want to be with Clarke until you die in each other’s arms so we can establish the best path forward.”

He gives them both a dark look. God, they’re so eager. And it’s not like...It’s not as if he has never thought about him and Clarke like that. He knows it doesn’t lead anywhere good though. She isn’t interested in him like that. Hell, they have a kid together and nothing’s really changed about their relationship. The almost kiss was clearly a mistake that they both want and need to forget. 

“The only way Clarke and I are dying in each other’s arms is if we go through that murder-suicide plan we’ve got going.” Murphy adds, “Which is a lot less likely with Ethan in the picture.”

Raven tsks her tongue. “Methinks the gentlemen protests a bit too much.”

“Screw you,” Murphy responds.

Raven rolls her eyes. “Fine, we’ll drop it. But know that this isn’t the last of this.”

Monty clinks his glass against her own. “I’ll drink to that.”

Murphy sighs. There’s no getting out of this, or away from them. His friends mean well, which is kind of the worst part. Him and Clarke? Not gonna happen. If it was, he would’ve let him kiss her. She clearly thinks it’s either a horrible idea or has no interest in him. Either way, it’s for the best.

He isn’t the type to live Happily Ever After. He’s surprised as anyone that he’s not a terrible dad, but he knows that the truth wouldn’t be the case if he was a serious partner, husband, etc. He would only let Clarke down. Maybe ruin their relationship entirely. Where would that leave them? Both miserable, fighting constantly, and Ethan stuck in the middle. There are too many risks involved. 

It’s better this way, really.

If only he could shake the feeling that Raven and Monty might not just have a point, but have hit him over the head with a truth he’s known all along. One that he can no longer ignore. Worse yet, a truth that he doesn’t _want_ to ignore anymore.

* * *

Ethan’s first birthday comes along, and Clarke knows she’s been putting off talking about Murphy with someone, but when Harper finally corners her, she gives in. 

“I don’t say this to be a bitch, but seriously, Clarke, are you happy with how things are with you and Murphy right now?” she asks. 

Clarke lets a balloon she’s just finished blowing up float to the ceiling.

“Why do you ask that?” she replies.

Though, really, she knows why Harper brought this up. Six months ago, her and Murphy almost kissed. Since then, she’s been thinking and...She regrets turning away from him. It took a lot for her to admit it. Even more for her to finally tell Harper, Echo, and Raven about it one night when Murphy had Ethan. Now she knows that she should’ve let him kiss her. 

It’s terrifying.

He’s her best friend, and the father of her child. If things went wrong, and if their pasts are any indication, the possibility is high that they would, then what would become of them? How would it impact Ethan is her biggest concern. He has a good life. Two parents who love him. Family who care for him almost as much as her and Murphy. She doesn’t want him to lose any of that because of her selfishness. 

She knows that she can only hide from it for so long, how badly she wants to be a real family with Murphy and Ethan. If Harper’s expression is any indication, her time’s run out. There’s really no solution here, she thinks. Except maybe the one where Murphy actually wants to be with her, too, but that seems so far away, almost nonexistent. How could he ever want to disrupt what they already have and take a risk with someone like her?

“I want you to be happy,” Harper says. “We all do.”

Clarke presses her lips into a line. “I just don’t think Murphy wants that with me.”

Harper rolls her eyes. “We both know that’s not true. Last time, you ran away, remember? And I know you haven’t said so, but I think you wish you hadn’t.” Clarke starts to shake her head, ready to deny it, but she continues, “I want you to think about it. Really think about it. What a life with Murphy, a committed, in love one, would look like.”

Clarke doesn’t know why the words suddenly resonate, but she feels the realization crush down onto her chest. She does want a life with Murphy and Ethan. One where her and Murphy aren’t just friends, but more. She wants more, maybe even _needs_ more, but that’s far too scary to consider at the moment. 

“What if he doesn’t want me?” she asks. “What if these last six months...He might not want that anymore. He might have never wanted that, even. But more than any of that, how can I be sure that it won’t end in heartbreak?”

Harper smiles sadly. “You can’t. Life doesn’t work that way. It might not work out, it could end in an absolute disaster.”

Clarke can’t help but fire back, “Then why even try?”

She sighs. “Because you love him, and all that’s left is to take a risk. Because if you don’t, then you’ll regret it. You’ll live wondering if you could’ve been something amazing, but were too afraid to give it a chance. To give _yourself_ that chance.”

Clarke lets out a shaky breath. “I’m scared.”

Harper grasps her hand. “So was I. Hell, I’m still scared, sometimes. it’s okay, as long as you do what you can to fight against that fear.

She knows, from Harper’s words, and from her own heart, that she owes it to herself, to Murphy, and to Ethan, to try, to be brave. 

A month after Ethan’s birthday is her own. Clarke decides that that night is when she’ll make her move. It feels ridiculous to think of it like that. Her friends know though, so when she tells them she wants to cancel the party they originally had planned, and just have a dinner with Murphy, they understand. Raven and Echo offer to take Ethan for the night, too. They’re supportive, but it isn’t enough to make her any less of a mess about the whole thing. 

Nothing can make her doubt herself for more, or believe that she could be making the biggest mistake by telling Murphy she wants to be more with him. It gets worse the closer to the date it gets. By the time she’s getting ready, she’s certain she’s a disaster. 

When she opens the door, Murphy immediately notices something is off, and looks at her as if she’s lost it. She isn’t completely sure that she hasn’t. This kind of stuff really isn’t her thing, and she’s worried he’ll figure it out before she even gets a word out. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Nothing’s up with me.” And then, because she’s a genius, “Is there something up with you?”

Murphy frowns. “Why would there be something up with me?”

She shrugs. “Who knows? There always seems to be.”

Now, he really looks at her as if she’s this close to needing a very big man with an even bigger needle. Or at the very least a stiff drink. The drink actually sounds good. She should’ve drank before he came over, but it’s too late now.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He looks her up and down and she tries not to squirm on her feet. “Are you high? Did Monty give you pot for your birthday?” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you did it without me.”

“I’m not high,” she replies and rolls her eyes. “I’m just...Sad about being old, is all.”

Thankfully, he smiles. “Ah, yeah, well, we can’t all age with grace like myself.”

She snorts, and actually feels better. “Please. I can see the retreating hairline now.”

His hand flies up to his hair and she cackles. He huffs out, “Ass.”

Clarke grins. “It takes one to know one.”

“What are you, twelve?” he asks around a laugh.

“Whatever.” She goes off to the kitchen to make them drinks. “Old Fashioned?” she shoots over her shoulder. 

“Sure,” he says. “When are the rest of them coming over?” 

She almost drops the glasses. “Um...They’re not.” 

She’s so eloquent. Really, she deserves some kind of award for ability with words. God. The night hasn’t even gotten started and it’s already a disaster. 

When she walks out of the kitchen with the drinks, Murphy gives her a long look. “Why aren’t they coming?” 

Oh, crap. He’s pissed at their friends. Great. This is just...Superb. 

Clarke takes a long sip from her drink and debates her answer. In the end, she feels she has no choice but to go with the truth. As much as it makes her want to run away and hide. 

“I kind of…” She forces the rest out, “Asked them not to be here tonight.”

Murphy’s sipping from his drink and pauses. “What?” 

Well, if she doesn’t do it now, she knows she never will. 

“Here,” she clears her throat, “can we sit?” 

She doesn’t wait for an answer and instead takes a seat on the couch. Thankfully, he takes one beside her. Balancing her drink in her hands, she goes through what she planned to say. Now that the moment’s here though, none of it seems right. 

“Clarke, what’s going on?” There’s genuine concern in Murphy’s expression now. It makes her even more nervous, as if that’s possible. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“That’s the thing,” she sighs. “I want to, but I’m...I don’t know how to say it, if that makes sense?”

Murphy chews on his lip. “Not really.”

“Okay,” she says, more to herself than him. “Here’s the thing, I think I want...No, I know I want...I want you, Murphy.”

“Clarke—” he starts.

She holds up her free hand. “Just let me get this out, okay? And I promise I’ll let you talk all you want after. I know this isn’t easy, but I don’t care. The reason why I wanted it to be just the two of us tonight is because...I wanted to spend my birthday with you, because you’re my family. Not only because you’re Ethan’s dad, but because...I love you. I know it’s crazy, but I just have this feeling that—”

Before she can finish though, he’s interrupting her, which pisses her off, until he speaks. Then she’s devastated. 

“Clarke,” and it’s not her name itself that strikes her, but the _way_ he says it. 

He doesn’t need to say anything else, but she doesn’t stop him. Maybe because a piece of her is a masochist, but she might need to hear it. To let him speak all the ugliness and doubt that’s been plaguing her mind into reality. 

“I don’t think we should do that.” He lets out an unsteady breath. One that makes her think he’s lying, even to himself. But he continues, “I...You know I love you, I do. But that doesn’t mean we should be more than what we are.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know you think it’s worth the risk, that I’m worth that risk, but I’m not.”

“What?” she asks. “Of course, you are. You’re—”

“In no position to be in something real with you,” he finishes. “To start anything with any kind of commitment.”

Her mouth twists in disdain, and she fights the urge to burst into tears. “So, you can have a kid with me but you can’t _commit_ to being with me? What a load of—”

“I’m saving us both from pain and disappointment,” he intervenes. “You know that, too. I’m trying to protect what we have, and after this wears off, you’ll see that.”

For a moment, they sit in silence. She doesn’t know where to go from here. It occurs to her that she imagined a lot of reactions, but never this. She didn’t prepare herself for a total rejection. She’s a fool, and Murphy’s just told her how much she’s been kidding herself. 

“I think you should go now,” she finally responds. He tilts his head to the side and she shakes her own. “Save it. You should go, Murphy. Now.”

He doesn’t fight her on it, and she tries not to be disappointed. She won’t let him see her cry. Not now. Not over this. 

“I’m really sorry, Clarke,” he says.

She doesn’t reply, and hears the door click shut. Her body relaxes and she wonders if she’ll start crying. She doesn’t though, and eventually, she goes to bed. The dinner she made goes uneaten. 

The call comes in at two am. 

“Hello?” Her voice is filled with alarm with her thoughts going to Ethan. 

“Clarke, it’s me,” Murphy breathes out.

“Murphy? What the hell are you—”

“Please buzz me up,” he slurs a bit and she realizes that if he isn’t drunk, that he’s certianly close. 

“No.” Her voice is stern, but she hopes it’s enough to make him go away. 

“Clarke, please, I need to say something.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” she manages, but she can hear how uneven her tone sounds. 

“I’m begging here,” he pleads.

She can hear how desperate he is in his voice. It shakes her resolve long enough to decide to let him. Besides, it’s raining. It’s not a good enough reason, she knows this, but she does it anyway.

“Fine. I’ll buzz you in. But you get one minute, go it?”

He swallows. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”

When she flings open the door, he’s kind of leaning on it, so he stumbles rather than walks into her apartment. 

“Jesus,” she mutters. 

He’s more drunk than she thought. She wonders if he went right from her place to a bar. It wouldn’t surprise her. Both of them have handled things by drinking in the past. Perhaps not their smartest move, but it’s one she understands.

“I…” he starts, but gives up on the explanation halfway through the thought. “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I know that means nothing, but I am.”

She sucks at her teeth. “What for?”

“For everything,” he gets out. She huffs and he tries to explain, “For what I said before. That was...I don’t even know what I was thinking.” 

The words don’t come out perfectly. Instead, they come out in fragments. If she wasn’t still hurt, and honestly, angry, then she would’ve probably found it funny. 

“So why did you do it?” she demands, even though she knows he can’t give her the answer she wants, or maybe even needs, given his current state. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t say anything except, “I don’t know.”

She swallows down her disappointment. “Your minute is up.”

“Wait, wait,” he almost begs. “Just...I love you, Clarke.”

She knows her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open for a second before she snaps it shut. 

“I do,” his eyes hold a sincerity she can’t stomach. “In the same way that you love me.” She feels herself tense up against her will. “I’m sorry I fucked it all up before.” He shakes his head wildly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was...I don’t even _know_. I just know that I want to be a real family with you and Ethan and the two of us together. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before or couldn’t see it, but I do now.”

Again, the words come out disjointed and slurred, but she hears them nonetheless. They’re too much and yet not enough. She needed them before, not now. This can’t happen, she can’t let it happen. If she does, she’ll just open herself up to even more pain. 

“I’m sorry, Murphy,” she responds. “But I can’t.” She looks down at her hands. “You should leave.”

He hangs his head and nods. “Okay...Yeah. I’ll go.”

When he does, she closes the door behind him and slides down it. She tells herself she did the right thing by rejecting him. But then why does it feel like the opposite?

* * *

The rest of the night and next day after Clarke’s birthday, Murphy knows he’s a complete idiot, that’s no surprise. It’s the extent of his idiocy that’s impressive though. Enough that he’s ruined his family. 

“Stop staring at me,” he says to his friends with his eyes still closed.

He’s hungover, and Raven’s blinds are shit. 

“You need to fix this,” Harper says. 

Murphy groans and opens his eyes, sitting up. “You’re going to have to clarify. I’ve done a lot of fucking up recently.”

“Your relationship with the mother of your child,” Raven tells him, glaring a bit. 

It’s probably not even close to what he deserves after the stunt he pulled. He wishes he had a good explanation for what he did, but the truth is: Clarke terrified him with what she said, and like the absolute mess that he is, he ran. He loves her, of course, he loves her. She’s the only one who meets him where he’s at with jokes and ridiculousness and she’s his best friend. She had his kid and is a kick-ass mom. Clarke Griffin is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he’s ruined his chance to actually be with her. 

Echo thrusts his phone at him, and against his better judgment, he accepts it, though he probably doesn’t have much of a choice. “We’ve already talked to her, so she knows you’re going to call. And you’re going to, and then you’re gonna be a complete sap and admit the truth and do everything you can to repair this.”

He sighs. “I highly doubt that’s a possibility. Clarke’s not gonna forgive this, and honestly, I don’t even think she should.”

“Not an excuse, but good try,” Monty replies, nodding to the phone. “Give her a call, and see what happens.”

Murphy sighs and admits defeat. “You win.”

Harper smirks. “Thought so.”

He rolls his eyes. “I still doubt this is going to lead to anywhere good.”

His friends motion for him to go into the other room, and he’s already admitted defeat, so he does. When he calls Clarke, he doesn’t expect her to answer. By some weird stroke of luck, she does. On the fifth ring, but it doesn’t matter. Some inane part of him starts to feel something suspiciously like hope. 

“Clarke? Is that you?” he gets out, unable to really believe it.

She almost does something amazing and too much, like laugh, as she says, “Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know...The Prince Charming you’ve managed to find in my absence? Someone dashing and intuitive with an ample amount of muscles?”

This time, she really does laugh, though it sounds like she tries to tamper it. “God, you’re an idiot.”

It’s not even something, but it matters that she’s willing to talk to him at all. He knows that if she really didn’t want to, then she wouldn’t. It’s what makes him brave enough to continue.

“Yeah, I’m pretty aware of that fact right now.”

“I bet you are.” There’s the sound of kids and a dog barking in the background. “Sorry, I’m out for a walk with Ethan right now.”

“That’s okay,” he says hurriedly. “That’s good. How’s he today?”

He hears the smile in her voice as she tells him, “Aside from totally refusing to eat the food you brought over the other day. Turns out I’m not the only one rejecting you right now.”

Murphy takes a breath and tries to play it as casual as her. “That sounds not at all surprising. He does take after you.”

“Ha.” Her tone is dry. “We both know he’s a total sucker for you. I bet the second you ask him to eat it he will.”

It’s probably useless, and it’s definitely a gutsy move, but he does it regardless. ‘What about you? I know that I have no right to ask. But I...Look, our conniving friends said they talked to you, and I’m just...Is there hope for me convincing you, too?”

She pauses and he thinks she’ll hang up or change the subject. Instead, though, she responds, “Honeslty, I’m not sure of anything right now.”

He nods and then realizes she can’t see him do it. “That’s okay. And I know I was a mess last night, but I remember everything I said, and I meant it.”

“Murphy…”

“But,” he adds, “it’s not all I should’ve said. It’s not all I wanted to say.” He takes a deep breath and lets out, “The reason I left the first time, why I said the things I did when you told me you wanted to be with me? I was scared shitless. And when I get scared, I run. I make excuses for myself that it would never work or we would just hurt each other. Maybe those things have some truth to them. But they don’t outweigh how much I love you, and how much I love Ethan. How much I love our family.”

Clarke sniffs and takes a moment before she says anything. “I need some time to think about all of this. About what I want.”

“I know,” he says. 

“But how about this? I’ll take the next week, and if I decide I want to still try this. Us. Then I’ll meet you at the place where we met at noon.”

“The bodega where you challenged me to a beer shotgun showdown?” he asks, just to clarify.  
  


“Yeah, it’s romantic.”

He laughs, and she does, too. Fully, this time. 

“Okay, that’s...Well, I’m gonna be honest, it’s a hell of a lot more than I expected.”

“I know, Murphy.” She clears her throat. “Now, I’ve gotta go, but...I’ll see you tonight when you come to get Ethan. Even if we don’t get together, we’re always going to be his parents.”

It never even registered in his mind, bailing on Ethan or Clarke, but he gets that she needs to reassure herself of that fact. “Of course, and Clarke?” 

“Yeah?” she asks. 

Murphy knows without a doubt that his next words are the only other thing he can say to tell her how much he loves her. “Even if we’re not like that, you and Ethan will always be my family.”

“You, too.”

Then she really has to go and they hang up. 

The next week, he’s a whole ass disaster. He experiences probably every emotion possible. Except angry, because...He knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on with that one. But all the others? You bet. So, by the time a week rolls around, he doesn’t know what to make of their agreement. Is it the worst thing possible? Will it lead to a lifetime of happiness? He really doesn’t know, and he hates not knowing things. This is a circumstance where he has to accept that though. It’s on her. All he has to do is so up at the bodega. 

The morning of, he can’t get anything done. He paces around his apartment, tries to listen to music or watch TV, but even that is apparently not enough to numb his brain. When it’s eleven, he leaves his place, knowing full well he’s gonna get there more than twenty minutes early. 

In the cold, he leans against the outside of the store, his breath appearing in puffs. He thinks she’ll certainly come, and then he follows that up with how could she ever? He drives himself in circles, thinking about what she’ll decide to do. 

In the end, he’s so busy thinking about whether or not she’ll show up that he misses her arriving.

“Murphy!” she calls out. 

He sees her wave a hand in front of his face and he takes a step back. 

Clarke snorts. “Wow. You really look so excited to see me.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing as she goes on, “I’ve never seen anyone so pleased at me showing up to—”

He cuts her off by kissing her. 

When he pulls away, he says, “I love you.”

She smirks. “Well, that’s very convenient because I love you, too.”

Then he kisses her again.

In the end, they don’t immediately return triumphantly to Bone Town or even spend the rest of the day making out. They go to Monty and Harper’s apartment and pick up Ethan. Then they all go to the playground. 

Ethan eats sand. Clarke freaks out. Murphy tries not to burst out laughing.

He’s never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤︎
> 
> Find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


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